


Live While We're Alive

by SilverKitsune



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Oh wait that's pretty much how they are in game isn't it?, Sort Of, There's some action-y bits early on, featuring Magical Boyfriend Mikleo and Very Boring Human Sorey, with a dose of fluff at the end, written for a prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12765690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverKitsune/pseuds/SilverKitsune
Summary: Mikleo is the Living Memory of his people, a repository of memories and history as seen by his people.  Sealed away for millennia during what would be the fall of his people, he is awakened when the walls of his sanctuary are broken down . . .





	Live While We're Alive

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after stumbling across this prompt on Tumblr: When you kill someone, their remaining life span is added to yours. Archaeologists have just found a cavern, apparently sealed off for thousands of years, with a single person living inside.
> 
> Naturally, I had to write this, featuring Archaeologist Sorey and Supernatural Creature Mikleo. I'm not entirely sure if there is such a mythological/supernatural creature that would fit what I had in mind, but the general idea for Mikleo is that he can stay alive as long as he has mana left to sustain himself off of. Mana being the things he converts lifespan and unimportant memories into. There probably won't be a continuation to this, mostly because it'd take a nosedive into depressing territory if I continued (because once again, different lifespans would enter the picture) and I was going for a happy ending as I was working on this.
> 
> Title is 100% taken from the Mans Zelmerlow song of the same name; I was listening to it while I was writing the second part of this, lol.

_Thud_.

Mikleo stirred from his slumber, the noise rousing him after what felt like an eternity inside the room.

_Thud._

This time the sound of rocks falling down the wall accompanied it, and he slowly opened his eyes. Beams of light streaked across the room to the back wall, and he heard multiple voices shouting in a language he didn't understand on the other side.

Invaders.

He had been hidden away in this room as his people's Living Memory during an invasion. And while it hurt his heart dearly to realize his people must have lost, he wasn't about to go down without a fight. He released his magic, unleashing his true nature as blue-white wings spreading the instant he landed in a perfect three point landing.

The wall fell down in the same instant, and his head rose . . .

. . . only to make eye contact with the most breathtaking pair of green eyes he had ever seen in his centuries of existence.

But just as suddenly, the owner of those eyes was rudely shoved aside and a burly and balding man stepped inside, waving some sort of light creating device as he turned to examine the room. The man spotted him crouched on the floor, and made some sort of noise as he approached.

Mikleo growled.

The man's clothes were strange, some sort of green, red, and white tunic, but when the other man continued ever closer despite the warning, Mikleo leapt forward, clawed hands clasping around the man's head as he tapped into powers, absorbing all that was left of the man's life force along with his memories and knowledge. He let the corpse drop from his hands as he processed the man's memories, sifting through for important pieces of information, namely, the language these people spoke, before converting the rest into mana. If his people had been lost, there'd be no telling when his next chance for more – better to stock up while he had the chance.

“Oh my god, what happened to Bartlow?!” shouted one man as he turned to run away.

“He's . . . he's . . .” another took a few backward steps before tripping over the ledge. The sharp smell of urine permeated the air, and the man continued to shuffle backwards, leaving a wet trail in his wake. A loose piece of debris helped him stand and he all but shoved the final member of the group onto the ground as he ran away.

He walked forward, wings spread, grabbing the third man – Sorey, as he learned through Bartlow's memories - by the throat and slamming him into the wall.

He leaned forward, hissing into this third man's ear. “What happened to my people?”

The man coughed, before making eye contact with him once more. “It's,” he gasped out. “it's been two thousand years since your people died.”

He squeezed Sorey's neck tighter. “You lie.”

“N-no, just look around you . . .”

And he did, taking in the how weathered and worn the stonework was around them, how the clothing worn by this Sorey was so different from those his own people had worn, how there was sand filtering in throughout . . . even though he was sure he'd been taken to a secret chamber deep within the temple.

He relaxed his grip on Sorey, letting him slide down the wall as Mikleo looked down at his hands with a heavy heart. Sorey coughed in the background as he caught his breath, but that all faded in the background as he realized – there was nothing left of the place he'd called home.

Nothing, but a forgotten sanctuary lost in the sands of time. The wind blew, making his ceremonial robes flutter in the wind, and he sighed.

_But what does a Living Memory to do when there was nothing left of the people whose history he remembered?_

A hand suddenly clapped on his shoulder, and he nearly spun to attack, only to stop at the sight of the compassion in those green eyes.

“Hey, I'm sorry about your people. It might not mean much from me since I hardly know you, but I'm sure you must have had friends. People you cared about.”

“I . . .” Mikleo's voice trailed off, feeling lonelier than he ever had in his life. He had nothing to go back to; everything he had ever known was lost to the sands of time. But at the same time, it was freeing – he no longer had to carry the weight of an entire civilization on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry.  For earlier," Mikleo clarified at Sorey's confused look.  He waved a clawed hand in Sorey's direction, and channeled his magic, healing the bruises that had just begun to form around Sorey's neck.

Sorey blinked in surprise as he gingerly touched his neck.  "Thank you."

"Don't thank me.  I overreacted earlier."  An awkward silence fell between them; Mikleo was lost in his thoughts, mortified that he felt freed fro his people's needs, instead of being more mournful of the loss.

“If you don't have anywhere else to be, you can come with me back to camp. I can help you get reoriented until you figure out what you want to do.” He held out his hand, before continuing, “My name is Sorey. What can I call you?”

Mikleo stared at Sorey's outstretched hand in confusion, first bumping the back of his hand against it before Sorey clasped his hand with a smile.

And for the first time since his awakening, Mikleo found himself smiling.

“My name is Mikleo. And I'd like that.”

* * *

 

Humanity, as Mikleo discovered, had changed during the millennia he had spent in hibernation. The first time they drove into town, Sorey had been relieved to discover Mikleo could hide the claws and wings at will – belief in the magical and supernatural had faded, replaced with a need for mundane scientific explanations for seemingly magical phenomena. Still, he was amazed with the technological progress humanity had made, especially in communications and transportation. Being able to cross oceans without having to fly across them himself had been impressive, even if he didn't much care for the noise generated by the airplanes.

And through it all, Sorey had stayed by his side, teaching him the finer details of modern society he hadn't gleaned or deemed as unimportant through Bartlow's memories. And he had been more than accommodating – Mikleo was sure that letting the person who killed your dig's sponsor stay at your apartment wasn't exactly normal. But Sorey had said that it was understandable; Bartlow hadn't exactly been a saint, something Mikleo knew just from the memories the man held, and given the circumstances of his sealing, there was no way to know whether the man had been friend or foe.

Which left Mikleo a little confused at their current situation.

Sitting at a cafe, drinking coffee, and just, talking. About history, about the weather, about Sorey's progress through his studies on his people, about his own book writing project – Sorey had suggested that he write a story about his people, as a way of leaving a permanent mark in history. He was sure that what they were doing could constitute a date, or some form of courtship at the very least. He was also fairly certain that the amount of hand touching they were doing as they were talking wasn't what modern society would consider normal between two friends.

But at the same time, watching Sorey light up during their conversations, feathered earrings fluttering in time to his animated movements, watching him smile brighter than a thousand suns as he listened to something Mikleo said or planned to take him somewhere – that was special.

“ _No, it doesn't matter that you saw it in a book or in Bartlow's memories, it's different when you're there!” Sorey had said, wildly gesturing with his arms. “C'mon, Spring Break is coming up soon and my parents have a cabin up there! We can go and stay there that whole week! It's absolutely not a problem!”_

_And afterward, Mikleo had to agree, it really was different to see the mountains in person instead of vicariously through another's eyes. And it was made even better when Sorey was there to sit up at night to watch the moon rise and pick out constellations with him._

There was something incredible in the way Sorey lit up a room that Mikleo just couldn't help but, dare he say it, love.

And the day he realized that, he found himself staring at a blank computer screen. All his life, he'd been living for someone else, for some _thing_ else. Love was something that was both familiar and foreign to him; as the holder of his people's history, Mikleo was loved and treasured by his people, but this, this kind of love just for a single person, this desire to make them happy and simply just stay by their side forever . . .

. . . that was strange to him. Forbidden even, for this was something he'd had been carefully kept away from – all of his attendants had been carefully masked and covered from head to toe for the duration of their service to him. There was no need for a Living Memory that was not wholly dedicated to the preservation of their people and history.

But he'd also caught Sorey staring at him a few times, an expression of affection on his face that left Mikleo confused – context from modern entertainment had suggested it hinted at something beyond affection between friends, but without being entirely certain, Mikleo was hesitant to act upon it – what if, due to his inexperience with modern culture, he was misinterpreting the situation?

So, it really shouldn't have surprised Mikleo any when after he announced to Sorey that he'd gotten the book deal that Sorey kissed him. Hard. And on the lips, no less. Which, as far as Mikleo was aware of, had only one meaning in all the time he had lived.

“I, uh, um, probably shouldn't have done that,” Sorey stammered, backing away, face beet red.

Mikleo had stared numbly in response, hand raised to his lips in the faint memory of those lips against his, and simply decided: getting the book deal had been amazing, but Sorey kissing him like that was even better.

“Congratulations on the book deal. Honest,” Sorey continued, still avoiding eye contact. “I'll, uhh, just be in the-”

Sorey never got a chance to finish the rest of that sentence before Mikleo grabbed him by the shoulders to return the kiss, hand sliding down to encircle Sorey's waist, letter all but forgotten on the kitchen table as they clumsily walked back towards Sorey's bedroom, leaving a trail of shed clothing in their wake.

After found him under the covers and lazily curled up against Sorey's side, and he stretched up, tracing a rib with kisses as Sorey rolled over to pull him closer. Sorey picked up a few locks, idly playing with them between his fingers.

“Thank you,” Mikleo murmured as he settled back into the crook of Sorey's arm.

“What for?” Sorey murmured as he nuzzled further into Mikleo's hair.

“For everything.” Mikleo look up into Sorey's adoring gaze.

Sorey pulled back, and turned to touch their foreheads together. “No need to thank me, just stay with me.”

Mikleo smiled. “Always.”

 


End file.
